Esse Quam Videri
by igniteXtheXairwaves
Summary: Kurogane always made him feel so weak, but what made him feel weakest was that he just couldn’t hate the ninja, no matter how much he wanted to. He'd tell himself, 'I hate him', and he'd tell Kurogane, "I hate you," but in the end... Oneshot. Angsty.


**Esse Quam Videri**

_The trouble with magnets is_

_they have a tendency_

_to both attract and repel._

* * *

**Setting:** It's set after Infinity, but before Celes. I don't know how that's possible, actually, but that's where it's set. Maybe before they went to fight Ashura-ou they spent the night somewhere or something...

**Warnings:** Language- to what extent, I don't recall... -, Fai-angst (of course). Rated T for safety because I don't remember what words I had Kuro-wanka say. Also, don't think this is going to be some fluffy, Fai-angsts and Kuro-comforts kind of thing.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned any of this stuff, I think that all those KuroFai fangirls would all be much less frustrated. Maybe still a little frustrated, but not like they are now.

**A.N.:** I wrote this right after my Latin final. So, predictably, there're a couple of Latin phrases thrown in. For anyone who doesn't know what they mean, I think I got them all:

Esse Quam Videri: To be, rather than to appear to be- or, more poetically, to be rather than to seem.

Non Sequitor: Basically, 'not partaining' - Having nothing to do with the current topic

* * *

It all started with a drink; a simple bottle of alcohol. Fai had spotted the dark ninja across the room, at the exact same moment that Kurogane caught sight of him. Their eyes had met, burning crimson and crystalline blue, and Kurogane had held up the tall bottle that was clutched in his large hand, offering Fai a drink.

Fai knew the ninja didn't do it on purpose; it was just instinct. Not very long ago, if Kurogane had alcohol, Fai would've wanted some of it. He would've _really_ wanted some of it. But not now. He still couldn't help but flinch, though. Because, yes, actually, he _did_ want a drink. He just didn't want a drink of that kind.

Kurogane seemed to immediately understand his mistake; his eyebrow shot up in an almost apologetic gesture. He beckoned the mage over with a slight jerk of his head, pulling a knife from his pocket.

Fai shook his head briskly, wanting to feel good for just one night. He was feeling kind of weak and kind of sick – actually, _horribly_ sick – from hunger, but he mouthed the word, "No," as he approached the table at the far end of the deserted bar.

But he wasn't so sick that he didn't catch Kurogane's eyes rolling as the ninja slid the knife back.

Fai took a seat at the table, opposite to the ninja, smiling instinctually as Kurogane's eyes probed his own.

Normally, that's where the ritualistic interrogation would've ended: the eyes. No verbal questions – though perhaps those would've been easier to endure, as Fai always seemed to tell Kurogane more than he was willing through his eyes. It frustrated him immensely.

But tonight, to Fai's carefully hidden surprise, Kurogane took it one step further.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" He wondered quietly, his eyes narrowing a bit.

Fai smiled, shaking out his blonde hair so his bangs cast a protective shadow over his betrayal-prone eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about, Kuro-wanka."

Kurogane took a swig from his already half-empty bottle, his eyes never leaving Fai's face. Fai, on the other hand, avoided eye contact, as always.

After a moment, the ninja prodded, "What? Do you feel guilty?"

Fai didn't answer, which Kurogane seemed to take as a 'yes'. A low growl of frustration sounded from the back of the ninja's throat.

"You didn't choose this. _I_ chose it. I chose to be what I am now, and I chose for you to be what you are now. You've said it yourself that it wasn't fair of me to do that. So _drink_, damn it."

Fai wasn't looking at the ninja – God, he couldn't if he wanted to – but he was definitely listening. And Kurogane's words made him wonder. In his typical _Non Sequitor_ style, he asked in a voice barely above a whisper, "Did you mean it, Kurogane?"

He actually sensed the ninja's immediate tensing at the use of his full name.

"Mean what?" the dark man growled.

Fai hesitated just a moment before continuing with a strange earnest. "You told me - you said that if I wanted to die so badly, you would kill me. Did you mean that? Would you do it?"

Kurogane's glare was as intense as Fai had expected, but he endured it, though he didn't return or meet it; instead, he focused on a spot on the table. But one can sense a glare with more than just sight, especially when said glare stems from Kurogane's eyes, red as cherries.

After what seemed like forever, Kurogane growled, "No. I didn't mean it."

"Then you wouldn't kill me even if I asked you to." Fai's voice was weak; defeated.

He could feel the ninja's anger; it was practically radiating from him, growing stronger with every second. This time, his words came as a snarl. "I won't kill you."

Fai chuckled without humor. As if he'd expected any different. "I know."

Kurogane fell silent then, and Fai hoped with all his might that this meant the conversation was officially dropped.

But he was dealing with Kurogane, so that was just wishful thinking. Kurogane was obviously brooding over Fai's sudden change of subject. After a minute or two, during which the air around Fai grew heavy with anticipation, something seemed to dawn on the dark-clothed man, because his eyes narrowed to crimson slits.

He hissed, "Are you telling me you won't feed because you're trying to _kill yourself_?"

Fai couldn't help but roll his eyes at the thought. He was a bit of a masochist, sure, but he wasn't_ that_ pathetically determined to hurt himself. He caved in to his desires way too fast for that; even_ his_ inhibitions had their limits.

Kurogane understood the meaning of this gesture, and though his anger died down immensely, he growled in frustration as he took another swig from the bottle. "Then _why_? Would you just freaking _explain_ this to me?"

Fai made the mistake of meeting those blazing eyes, and felt immediately dizzy, like he could pass out any moment. He felt like—-if he could just tell the ninja the truth, maybe it'd all be okay.

(Great. So Kurogane maximized Fai's ability to lie to himself.)

"I can't"—the mage gasped in unwilling reply, his mind racing in vain to close his lips before all his thoughts spilled out of them. He was a broken fountain, words and thoughts and feelings pooling inside of him, unable to escape, instead swirling about endlessly. But someone had gone and turned the pump on.

"I can't be—good. It's the only way I can be _good_. I'm—weak and thoughtless and _senseless_ and selfish and evil, and I just want to be good. I can't think before I act and I can't think before I_ think_—I lie and deceive and I just can't _be_ who everyone _thinks_ I am. Someone saves me and—and—I think I have the _right_ to _complain_ about it! And I just—I _just_—I don't want to _take_ from someone to whom I already _owe_ so _much_."

He was sobbing dryly by now, his throat convulsing and his limbs trembling but the tears refusing to come, his eye wide in mania as he clutched at his own shoulders, holding himself in a desperate attempt to keep these feelings locked away where they belonged, to turn that pump off, to keep that pool of secret emotions swirling.

"I'm s-sorry. I'm _sorry_. It's not—it's not—that I want to _die_—I j-just want to _be_ a good person, not to just _appear_ to be—to be a good person."

To be, rather than to seem. That's all Fai wanted. But he would've never, _ever_ admitted that, had he not been under Kurogane's influence. He felt a terrible wave of contempt build up inside of him, which he fought down with all his strength despite his best efforts to embrace it. Kurogane always made him feel so _weak,_ but what made him feel weakest was that he just couldn't hate the ninja, no matter how much he wanted to. He'd tell himself, 'I hate him', and he'd tell him, "I hate you," but in the end he couldn't fool himself and he knew - God, he knew - that he couldn't fool Kurogane.

Fai could feel Kurogane's crimson eyes on him; he couldn't bring himself to meet them, how could he possibly look him in the eye after that, but something, some unseen force, was pulling his gaze towards the ninja, forcing him to look, to meet, to see. It was as if their gazes – their _souls_ - were polar opposites, so fundamentally different as to be loath to fit together, yet through simple physics forced to do so. Forced to see eye-to-eye, yet unwilling and unable to truly come to terms.

Just when Fai was absolutely convinced that the ninja was just going to let it go, to not reply at all, Kurogane's quiet, deep, serious voice broke the silence. "You're right."

As much as Fai had been expecting – perhaps even _hoping_ – for this reaction, he still had to stifle the gasp that erupted from his lungs. He turned his face even further away from the ninja, squeezing his eye desperately closed, driving back the burning tears that were finally threatening to break free of his eyelid.

"You didn't let me finish," Kurogane then growled, obviously exasperated. "Look at me."

Fai was the North. Kurogane was the South.

Keep looking at the table. Just keep looking at the table. He couldn't look up. Not _now._

"_Look_ at me," the ninja said again, even harsher this time. He reached across the table and grasped Fai's chin, forcing him to look into those blazing red eyes, effectively shocking him into silence.

"You're right—about _some_ things." Kurogane's eyes were boring into Fai's, but he released his hold on the mage's face. "You're wrong about others."

"Like what, Kuro-tan?" Fai murmured half-heartedly, lowering his eyes for just a moment. He then smiled and looked up again, focusing, not on the burning eyes, but on the space in between them. That worked rather well; he appeared to be making eye contact without actually having to do it. "What am I wrong about?"

But of course Kurogane saw what Fai was doing, and shifted so that their gazes met perfectly. Fai flinched.

"You're not a bad person," the ninja said very, very quietly.

"Is that so?"

Kurogane's eyes narrowed just a fraction of an inch.

"I've killed whole armies before. Armies of good people, armies of bad people; all enemies, but not all necessarily evil. The one thing I've gained from those experiences, besides the obvious personal strength, is the ability to tell the two types apart." His gaze never faltered, unlike Fai's, whose eyes kept darting to and fro, away and back again. "Malicious intent, personal gain, pride…I associate those kinds of things with evil." The ninja leaned forward, his tone becoming sharp. "Does an evil person vow not to use the _one thing_ they can truly defend themselves with for the sake of others?"

Fai felt some unstable emotion stir inside of him, and was almost surprised to find himself also leaning in, towards Kurogane. How _dare_ the ninja? How _dare_ he contradict Fai's own views of himself? Fai knew who he was; Kurogane knew_ nothing_. He knew nothing of the _thoughts_ Fai sometimes had, the selfish, angry, tumultuous thoughts that _broiled_ inside of him, an emotionally unstable caged beast threatening to rip Fai open rib-from-rib and climb out between the broken bars of its calm prison.

"Does a good person lie?" He counteracted, his own voice taking on an uncharacteristically passionate anger.

"Does an evil person devote himself to protecting someone else?" Kurogane was standing and shouting then, and – with a jolt – Fai realized that_ he_ was, too. He couldn't recall when he had stood, or when his voice had risen.

"And then drive a sword through them?" Fai almost laughed, high and hysterical. "_Yes_!"

They were in each other's faces, both seething, each angry that they just couldn't get the opposite pole to see it their way.

Kurogane was, surprisingly, the first to relent. He leaned away, and shook his head in quiet exasperation.

"A good man who has made mistakes or done evil things, especially things that are not necessarily his fault, and recognizes those things as bad is still an uncorrupted good man." His voice was quiet, rough from shouting.

Fai felt his heart thrill at that - the fact that there was even a _sliver_ of hope for him - but silently scolded it, because he couldn't _help_ but smile wryly.

"Oh, no, Kuro-pu," he murmured, turning away from the dark-haired man. "That's where_ you're_ wrong."


End file.
